The Debt Of Fate

"Don't worry, Miss Leah is checking on the kitchen; she won't know," Rosa said, understanding why Anastasia wouldn't let her help.

"No, not a chance. The walls have ears," Anastasia refused, quickening her pace toward the grindstone.

As she walked past a few maids, they all pretended not to see her. The Duchess had made it clear that befriending Anastasia would undermine her authority, so it didn't surprise her that many maids who once bowed respectfully now treated her like air.

A few even seemed to take pleasure in her misfortune. However, not many dared to be as rude as Leah.

"Good morning, my lady," the old maid in charge of keeping the grindstone and spices clean greeted her with a smile.

"Good morning," Anastasia replied before walking in to select what she needed. The Duchess insisted her daughter bathe with different fragrant spices, claiming it would help her develop a natural, pleasant scent.

Anastasia cleaned the grindstone and began her work. The cold wind from the window occasionally blew against her dress. The process would typically take over two hours, but Anastasia had learned to prepare some spices in advance during her free time. This allowed her to reduce the time spent by half an hour. She knew the Duchess was only trying to make things difficult for her; otherwise, she could have prepared a week's worth of spices on days when she didn't have lessons with her tutors. But the Duchess had refused, insisting that the best results came only from freshly made spices.

"Let me help you, my lady," Rosa offered when she saw Anastasia moving the grindstone. Tasks like this could make a lady's palms rough and unappealing.

Rosa had always believed that the Duchess's real intention was to ruin Anastasia's beauty and reputation. That was why she assigned her tasks like preparing the spices for her daughter's bath, serving guests during family celebrations, and preventing her from attending royal balls or important ceremonies.

Anastasia glanced at her palms and smiled. Hard work was said to make one's palms tougher. Most men's hands were firm and rough, but a lady's palms were expected to remain soft and smooth. Despite years of grinding spices and sustaining occasional cuts, her palms remained soft.

It seemed that while others received great fortunes from God, all she got was her soft palms.

"I can't stand watching you get punished," Anastasia refused Rosa's offer again. Even if Rosa could take a beating, She was unwilling to watch.

"There's only the old maid here. She won't report us," Rosa argued, trying to take the grindstone from Anastasia. The old maid was kind and didn't look down on her like the others.

"No. You're still young and can endure punishment if it comes to that. But Grater is old; we can't implicate her," Anastasia insisted. The old lady was so nice to her, Anastasia could not be so cruel as to involve her in her matters.

Rosa pouted but didn't press the matter further. After all, she could not let others suffer for her actions.

"Go and do what you need to," Anastasia waved her off, unable to bear Rosa's accusatory gaze.

Rosa knew Anastasia was right, so she reluctantly left.

"You should have let her help you. That witch doesn't dare trouble me," Grater said after Rosa had gone.

"Maybe Leah wouldn't touch you, but the Duchess is another matter. You're already helping me by letting me prepare some spices in advance," Anastasia replied, her hands moving swiftly.

Grater nodded, feeling sorry for Anastasia. She knew secrets about the Thompson household that most didn't, but revealing them might do more harm than good.

When Anastasia finished her work, she prepared to leave.

"Here, take this," Grater handed her a small pouch. Anastasia accepted it, curious, but as she noticed Leah approaching out of the corner of her eye, she quickly hid the pouch in her dress.

"Where are the spices? My lady is ready for her bath," Leah demanded as she approached. She knew it had only been an hour and a half, far less than the usual time, and she intended to use this as an excuse to reprimand Anastasia.

"Here," Anastasia said, relieved that Leah had come to collect the spices herself. It saved her the trouble of delivering them to her sister's room.

"How could you finish so quickly? Are you trying to ruin my lady's skin?" Leah accused, looking at Anastasia as though she were a criminal.

"I watched her prepare the spices myself. Nothing was wrong. I can swear to that," Grater interjected, glaring at Leah. She hated how Leah spoke to Anastasia.

"Ahh! The spices should have taken at least two hours! It's only been an hour and a half. How can what's in her hands be any good?" Leah scoffed.

"Are you accusing me of conspiring with this young lady to harm her sister? Have you forgotten that such a crime could cost me my head? I may be old and ready to meet my end, but this kind of scandal would bring great disaster to the Duke," Grater said coldly, her glare cutting through Leah.

Leah swallowed hard. She only wanted to find fault with Anastasia but hadn't considered the potential consequences of her accusations.

As a Duke, Thompson was forbidden from having family scandals. It was precisely because of such scheming and plots that the emperor had decreed Dukes could only marry one wife and keep one mistress. If a Duke failed to maintain peace in his household, he risked being stripped of his title.

If this matter escalated, the Duke could easily shift the blame onto the Duchess, labeling her a vicious stepmother. Such an accusation could lead to her being demoted to a mistress or even divorced. Whatever happened, Leah would not escape unscathed.

"Don't twist my words," Leah snapped, regaining her composure. She knew that if her accusations reached the Duchess, she would face severe consequences—not just from the Duke but from the Duchess herself.